Saving Ash (book #2) Chapter-nine

Ash...14-years-old

Sister Margret sits at her desk, waiting on my reply. I think of Pippa and what she said about the nuns. They fantasize the most. If that’s true, then she should understand the picture she found on the floor that fell from my desk.

“Ash Sinclair, is this what you spend your time doing, drawing filthy pictures that honor the devil? Sketches of naked women?”

It’s not naked women, it’s only one woman. The only woman I see. Pippa. No other woman could compare to her. I don’t like what she is insinuating about her. Pippa is a goddess. She rules all my days and nights.

“No, ma’am. It’s art. I’m sorry you don’t see it that way.”

“Now I know what goes on in that evil mind of yours. I’m sending you to Father Burke and let him deal with the demons that are inside you.”

Sister Margret pulls me from my desk and glares down at me with disgust. “Let’s take this to Father Burke’s office,” she says scathingly.

I don’t say word and pull my arm from her hold. I grab my satchel, and then walk out of her class. I hear the clatter of her mad stomp coming down the hall behind me. Echoes of years of angry nuns who live in denial. I will never deny myself the pleasure of love and lust.

I walk into Father Burke’s office and he looks up.  Sister Margret slams my sketch down on his desk with an iron fist.

“Filth,” she seethes. “This must be dealt with.”

“Yes, Sister. Now, leave the boy with me I will correct him of his ways,” he says, looking down at my drawing.

“See to it that you do. I will not tolerate this behavior in my class.” She turns to give me one last look of disgust before storming out. The angry clatter fading into the distance.

“Well, Ash. I can see why Sister Margret is upset.”

“Father Burke, it’s just how she perceives it. To me, it’s beautiful art. There’s nothing distasteful about it.”

He looks to me and then back to my drawing of Pippa. She’s standing naked in a field of wild flowers, butterflies surrounding her.

“Well, I can see you are very talented.”

I don’t know whether to thank him, or remain silent.

“Is there a reason you chose to draw this…this nude?”

There is only one reason I draw, and it’s because of her. But I can’t tell him that. Just like I can’t tell Pippa the things I fantasize about her—about us.

“It’s just one of the things I see when I play classical music. It helps me with my timing, and helps me feel the rhythm of the melody.”

“I understand, young man. And just because I’m a priest, doesn’t make me exempt from the beauty God has designed. It’s just, well…maybe some of the other children are not ready for such…beauty. It takes a mature mind to process what is going on here.”

“But Sister Margret is old. Why doesn’t she get it? I didn’t show it to anyone else. She found it when if fell to the floor when I was placing my books inside.”

He seems to a count my answer, processing the innocence of my imagination. He may think that I’m just a young boy with desires. But my desires for Pippa go far beyond than any locker room boy talk. I’ve felt her. Smelled her. I’ve even tasted her imagination. Things she shares with me, no one else would understand. Places she’s touched me. Even if she didn’t think she was. Each night when I milk out my desires, I’m only preparing myself for her. I want to be ready for when she’s ready. For the first time I make love to her, she will know the power she has over me.

“Ash, I will talk to Sister Margret about this. But please, keep your private drawings private. Next time, I will be forced to call your father. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Father Burke.”

Instead of handing over my drawing, he opens a drawer on his desk and places it inside. Anger runs through my veins knowing he will be lusting after my Pippa. She belongs to me. How dare he. I thought Father Burke was on my side. And apparently so. He also wants to dwell in her beauty. I will need to find a way to get my drawing back. I have many of her at home, but none that I’m willing to share.

“Ash, is something wrong?”

Plenty is wrong. He has the love of my life at his disposal.

“Can I have my drawing back?”

He looks down at the drawer and then back to me. I know what he is thinking. What he will do when he’s alone. I can’t let him pleasure himself with her.

“I think it’s best if I kept it right here and keep it away from prying eyes.”

“And what about your eyes, Father Burke? I pull out my phone from inside my blazer jacket. “Maybe I shall make a call to the Bishop, and tell him what you are hiding in your desk.” My fingers begin to press out the numbers. Father Burke suddenly has a change of heart.

“Young Ash, take your drawing and do not bring anymore of its kind to school,” he says, tossing my drawing across the desk. Pippa’s smile seems to curve into her beguiled look she gives me. I have pleased her. Saved her from unwanted eyes upon her.

“Don’t worry, Father Burke. No one will ever lay their eyes on her again.” Unzipping my backpack, I carefully place her inside, keeping her safe. I then walk out of Father Burke’s office, feeling closer than ever to my Pippa.

***

Saving Ash© 2024 Gina A. Jones rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.